


Hourglass

by kangeiko



Category: Alias
Genre: Canon Compliant, Community: fanfic100, Episode Related, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-15
Updated: 2005-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode filler for <span class="u">Hourglass</span>. Jack and Arvin share a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hourglass

**Author's Note:**

> fanfic100 Jack Bristow and Arvin Sloane #60 - Drink. My table is [here](http://kangeiko.livejournal.com/113677.html).

Some things you don't tell your best friend, and one of them is that you're an old man who _still_ hasn't figured out what you want. Especially if said best friend is happy to watch you die. And everyone else? Well, it's the job of a best friend to think of you more fondly than anyone else. (Everyone else will cheer.)

It's a blunt fact that everyone you have loved and that has loved you has died. You are almost used to it (except that you aren't, and you're not quite sure that Jack's gonna let this happen, vengeful bastard though he is) but it's through sheer force of will that you have made yourself accept it.

And you gulped down that wine like a dessicated corpse. It had no taste that you could discern, but that doesn't matter. You know that it's just nerves. Jack's a vengeful bastard and in half and hour you're going to be very, very dead.

And here you are, shackled and drinking your favourite wine and after all you've done, you're alone in your cell and all you can think is, _I've lost another one_. It's not so much fear or fury but _frustration_ that drives you, that makes you reach for the bottle and pour yourself another generous gulp.

Jack, you fool. You don't believe a word I say, do you? And nor should you. I have made my life out of lies; it is the strongest thread in my tapestry. You shouldn't trust me if your life depended on it. Because you remember when I toasted Sydney's birth and put my hand on your shoulder and that was all fine, wasn't it? Because I was a stupid young man who didn't know what he wanted and now I'm a stupid old man who doesn't know what he wants and nothing changes, not really.

You still love that bitch more than me and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

So, yes, let this toast be for Irina Derevko, a woman who somehow managed to retain the love of the daughter she abandoned and the husband she duped. A woman for whom both of them would kill the one person they can be completely sure loves them. Would die for them. For _them_, Irina, not for you. It's galling to have to die for you.

You can walk away, Jack, but it's not quite that easy. Whatever you do to my child - remember the guilt earlier - oh, your anger will fade; it always does. And where will you be when she's suffering and you caused it and she looks at you with Irina's face and my eyes?

And you know what? I'm still angry. I've had years and revelations and many great loves, and I am still bound and shackled in a cold cell, the bitter taste of wine on my lips and tongue. Everything I said before, all the games I played, _everything_, Jack, pales in comparison to the frustration of not being able to force these words past my lips, though they may save my life: I am ... I ...

No, never mind.

Some secrets I'd rather take to the grave.

*

fin


End file.
